He grinned. “You could call it feminine intuition. That would work even better.”
“That’s sexual discrimination,” she snapped, still fuming.
“Only if you call it that. Give it a rest, Tanaka.”
“I will not.”
He let out a long breath, showing that he was losing his patience. “Let’s just talk to these ladies.”
“Women. They’re women. Not ladies. Not girls.”
“To you maybe. Just try to be nice, would you?”
No way in hell. Nice? What did that get you? And if he laid on that old adage of “You get more flies with honey than vinegar . . .”
“Wait a second.” Her phone had vibrated and she saw the message. “Looks like one of the Latham boys has been located. He’s all right.”
“Not a victim. Maybe still involved.”
“We’ll see.” She read more of the message as he led the way into the room.
Jesus, Paterno could be such a stubborn ass. Caught up in his 1980s way of thinking. Make that 1970s. The guy was a dinosaur. But a good detective. Dogged. Determined. Wouldn’t let a case go until he solved it. All reasons you requested to work with him. Remember? To learn from the old guy, to give some depth to your tech skills, to find out how to dig deep without relying on computers. So here you are.
Impatient, Tanaka waited while he gave the sisters some time to themselves.
* * *
Sarina, blubbering, disentangled herself from Pescoli’s arms. “Sorry,” she said, sniffing loudly. “It’s just so . . . hard.” Her eyes were red rimmed, her nose leaking so badly she had to find a tissue from her purse. “I never expected, I mean, who would do this . . . ? Oh, poor, poor Brindel.” She was shaking her head, her ponytail sweeping the shoulders of her sweater. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing.”
Collette scraped her chair back and she, too, gave Regan a hug, but it was cold and stiff, uncomfortable for both of them. “Nothing? Oh, come on.”
“They’ll come in and talk to us.”
“And you’ll be part of the investigation?” Sarina asked.
“If they let me.”
Collette asked, “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Well, I’m the sister of one of the victims, to begin with, and there’re all kinds of jurisdiction issues. It’s just not usually done.”
“Desperate measures for desperate times,” Sarina said, lifting her chin. “And if this isn’t a desperate time, I don’t know what is. Our sister and brother-in-law murdered, their kids missing—”
“—and who knows what the robbers took,” Collette pointed out.
“They were robbed?” Pescoli hadn’t heard this.
Collette’s mouth tightened at the corners. “Dona, their housekeeper, said the safes were open. We don’t know what was in them.”
“The cops will figure it out,” said Pescoli.
“With your help,” Sarina sniffed.
“So far they haven’t kicked me out.”
“Would they?”